[Long time lurker. Thought I'd finally summon some courage and give this a try.]
[Open. Paragraphs please. I need substance to chew on.]
[PM me if you want to take it in a different direction than wherever it goes here. I'm good with whatever.]
The mission had been a smashing success.
Well, aside from the smoking remains of her ship whose flames clung to life hours later in defiance of an atmosphere wholly lacking in sufficient quantities of oxygen. Perhaps there was also something to be said about the loss of her partner, who had been unceremoniously abandoned a few craters back when it became evident he was not nearly as devoted to the plan as she was. There was also the issue with the plan, which had not survived contact with the proverbial enemy, and had prompted her to shift it a few gears up, with or without the clutch to assist. Her firearm was also missing. As was her ID card. The nearest eco-dome was a few days away on foot. Oh, and the small crack in her helmet was annoying to look through. It was no threat to any explosive decompression unless something baseball sized was aimed squarely at her head. Not that there was anyone out here to do that. Except her partner. If he managed to get out of that crater anytime soon. No, it was just… annoying. Really annoying.
Her hand involuntarily produced the reason for all the trouble. Physically, it was about the size of an ostrich egg, the surface so smooth it was difficult to believe it had been naturally made. What little starlight streamed down onto the surface of the planet… No, the moon, was reflected perfectly from its spherical design like a stretched mirror. It was, as far as she knew, the embryo of some interstellar mammal, able to survive the cold vacuum of space and highly sought after by collectors and researchers alike. Or something like that. To her? Conceptually, all she could see was the credits this bounty would bring in, and the promises of escaping into safer horizons someday.
Who was she kidding? She loved this. Well, perhaps not this particular situation. Stuck on a big dead rock floating around in space with nothing to look forward to but three days of low gravity bounding to reach what was only generously being referred to as civilization. Once there, she would have to secure passage to a starbase, without credits, where she could access her accounts and then secure more passage elsewhere in the galaxy. All while carrying what had been labeled as ‘Contraband’ by the preset system scans in her visor, urging her to deliver the item to the nearest authority. It likely would have automatically contacted one for her, had this moon been anything more than the very definition of backwater, and she had disabled her antenna shortly thereafter. Ah! Another thing to look forward to. The questions from a security detail asking why her system wasn’t responding. She should really consider using a rock to cause some visible damage. Made enhancing the truth a lot easier.
Still, it wasn’t all bad news. Above her loomed an enormous gas giant that held the moon in orbit, a palette of wondrous colors swirling and churning endlessly from horizon to distant horizon. It was a veritable bucket of multihued paints poured together, its beauty and serenity dampened only by her emotionless visor helpfully displaying info points pairing each type of gaseous substance to its color and how long she could survive within an atmosphere containing one hundred percent by volume of said gas. Nearly all of them were measured in seconds. “Thanks Visor.” She mumbled, wishing she could turn it off and simply enjoy the view. She couldn’t, of course. It was the only way to discern her direction of travel and would be utterly inadvisable.
“You’re welcome.” It chirped back, and she mentally cursed her decision to give it an upbeat and energetic voice pattern. Was it better than the monotonous declarations of a default computer tone? Probably. Maybe. Something to reconsider when this was all over. “Would you like to know more?” It added amongst her fuming, oblivious to the elevated blood pressure reading it was displaying in the bottom right corner.
She leveled her voice. It was more difficult than she anticipated. “No. I would like a visual display to the nearest settlement.” Silence. Her fist clenched. “Please.” She added with a distinct note of venom. A buzz and a flicker later, digital lines traced the moon’s surface in a mostly straight path off in what she, personally, could only see as a random direction. Moons were strange like that. Especially ones that were tidally locked. Difficult to gauge latitudes and longitudes.
Still, Visor had never let her down before, being a computer and all. So she turned in the indicated direction, then hesitated, glancing back towards the direction she came. Should she have left him like that? There was no animosity. No bad blood between them. There was just… a lot of credits at stake here. And cutting out a split was just good business. Ethically? Probably wrong. But she wasn’t leaving him to die. He would get out of that crater eventually, like the thousands of others they had seen together in their tenure as partners. What he did after that was his call. She couldn’t care less. And she would keep telling herself that over and over until she believed it.
“You are facing the wrong direction, Ambra.” Visor admonished her, presenting a very supportive arrow on which direction to turn to get back on course. “Please turn fifty two point six degrees to port and follow the path for two days and fourteen Earth standard hours. Your internal hydration and sustenance levels are anticipated to last four days and two Earth standard hours.”
“We are going to have a long talk about your manners, Visor.” She replied, turning away and taking her first step back towards civilization. “And by talk, I mean I’m going to be rewriting some of your code.” Her voice took on a threatening tone.
“I look forward to the upgrades, Ambra!” Visor replied cheerfully, without missing a beat.
It was going to be a long trip.
[Open. Paragraphs please. I need substance to chew on.]
[PM me if you want to take it in a different direction than wherever it goes here. I'm good with whatever.]
The mission had been a smashing success.
Well, aside from the smoking remains of her ship whose flames clung to life hours later in defiance of an atmosphere wholly lacking in sufficient quantities of oxygen. Perhaps there was also something to be said about the loss of her partner, who had been unceremoniously abandoned a few craters back when it became evident he was not nearly as devoted to the plan as she was. There was also the issue with the plan, which had not survived contact with the proverbial enemy, and had prompted her to shift it a few gears up, with or without the clutch to assist. Her firearm was also missing. As was her ID card. The nearest eco-dome was a few days away on foot. Oh, and the small crack in her helmet was annoying to look through. It was no threat to any explosive decompression unless something baseball sized was aimed squarely at her head. Not that there was anyone out here to do that. Except her partner. If he managed to get out of that crater anytime soon. No, it was just… annoying. Really annoying.
Her hand involuntarily produced the reason for all the trouble. Physically, it was about the size of an ostrich egg, the surface so smooth it was difficult to believe it had been naturally made. What little starlight streamed down onto the surface of the planet… No, the moon, was reflected perfectly from its spherical design like a stretched mirror. It was, as far as she knew, the embryo of some interstellar mammal, able to survive the cold vacuum of space and highly sought after by collectors and researchers alike. Or something like that. To her? Conceptually, all she could see was the credits this bounty would bring in, and the promises of escaping into safer horizons someday.
Who was she kidding? She loved this. Well, perhaps not this particular situation. Stuck on a big dead rock floating around in space with nothing to look forward to but three days of low gravity bounding to reach what was only generously being referred to as civilization. Once there, she would have to secure passage to a starbase, without credits, where she could access her accounts and then secure more passage elsewhere in the galaxy. All while carrying what had been labeled as ‘Contraband’ by the preset system scans in her visor, urging her to deliver the item to the nearest authority. It likely would have automatically contacted one for her, had this moon been anything more than the very definition of backwater, and she had disabled her antenna shortly thereafter. Ah! Another thing to look forward to. The questions from a security detail asking why her system wasn’t responding. She should really consider using a rock to cause some visible damage. Made enhancing the truth a lot easier.
Still, it wasn’t all bad news. Above her loomed an enormous gas giant that held the moon in orbit, a palette of wondrous colors swirling and churning endlessly from horizon to distant horizon. It was a veritable bucket of multihued paints poured together, its beauty and serenity dampened only by her emotionless visor helpfully displaying info points pairing each type of gaseous substance to its color and how long she could survive within an atmosphere containing one hundred percent by volume of said gas. Nearly all of them were measured in seconds. “Thanks Visor.” She mumbled, wishing she could turn it off and simply enjoy the view. She couldn’t, of course. It was the only way to discern her direction of travel and would be utterly inadvisable.
“You’re welcome.” It chirped back, and she mentally cursed her decision to give it an upbeat and energetic voice pattern. Was it better than the monotonous declarations of a default computer tone? Probably. Maybe. Something to reconsider when this was all over. “Would you like to know more?” It added amongst her fuming, oblivious to the elevated blood pressure reading it was displaying in the bottom right corner.
She leveled her voice. It was more difficult than she anticipated. “No. I would like a visual display to the nearest settlement.” Silence. Her fist clenched. “Please.” She added with a distinct note of venom. A buzz and a flicker later, digital lines traced the moon’s surface in a mostly straight path off in what she, personally, could only see as a random direction. Moons were strange like that. Especially ones that were tidally locked. Difficult to gauge latitudes and longitudes.
Still, Visor had never let her down before, being a computer and all. So she turned in the indicated direction, then hesitated, glancing back towards the direction she came. Should she have left him like that? There was no animosity. No bad blood between them. There was just… a lot of credits at stake here. And cutting out a split was just good business. Ethically? Probably wrong. But she wasn’t leaving him to die. He would get out of that crater eventually, like the thousands of others they had seen together in their tenure as partners. What he did after that was his call. She couldn’t care less. And she would keep telling herself that over and over until she believed it.
“You are facing the wrong direction, Ambra.” Visor admonished her, presenting a very supportive arrow on which direction to turn to get back on course. “Please turn fifty two point six degrees to port and follow the path for two days and fourteen Earth standard hours. Your internal hydration and sustenance levels are anticipated to last four days and two Earth standard hours.”
“We are going to have a long talk about your manners, Visor.” She replied, turning away and taking her first step back towards civilization. “And by talk, I mean I’m going to be rewriting some of your code.” Her voice took on a threatening tone.
“I look forward to the upgrades, Ambra!” Visor replied cheerfully, without missing a beat.
It was going to be a long trip.
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